


One Day

by alwaysbyme



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Police, Denial of Feelings, Fluff, Hatred, Humor, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-03-13 11:04:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13569261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysbyme/pseuds/alwaysbyme
Summary: “Henry Wordsworth. He’s an English gentleman, who moved to America recently and is throwing a party tonight. We’re afraid he’s been engaged in illegal activities, perhaps the black market and drugs. I need the both of you to go to his party tonight...”“Yes, sir, that’ll be no pr—”“...as a couple,” their boss finished.





	1. Chapter 1

The slow fall of rain offered a sort of soothing sound as Arthur typed away furiously on his computer. He was trying to ignore the quite annoying tapping of a pen against his desk. He grit his teeth as he glanced up at his partner, shooting him the look of pure hatred. 

His partner didn’t notice and just continued to tap, staring in immense concentration at the crossword. His eyebrows wrinkled for a moment, and he glanced up. 

“Do you know a seven letter word for annoying?” He wondered, smiling innocently at the aggravated Englishman in front of him.  

“Francis?” Arthur suggested, his eyebrow twitching as the pen hit the desk again. 

The Frenchman glanced back down at the paper and frowned. 

“Ah, non, that’s not it,” he replied, shaking his head. “It starts with a I. Perhaps I’ll ask Matthieu, he’s a genius when it comes to crossw—” 

“Bloody hell, Francis, could you stop it?” Arthur snapped. 

Francis raised an eyebrow, before following Arthur’s fiery hell-gaze with his own gentle blue eyes. He grinned. 

“Je suis désolé,” Francis offered, twirling the pen around his finger. “I didn’t know a mere pen tapping bothered you.” 

Arthur crinkled his nose is disgust as he turned back to his computer. 

“Don’t speak the language in my office,” he demanded, signing and closing the email. “It’s the language of frogs and I refuse to—” 

Francis chuckled. 

“But, mon cher, you are fluent in French yourself, non?” He pointed out, smiling a tad as Arthur’s fist clenched. He turned back towards his crossword and gasped, clicking open the pen. “Irksome!” 

“One day I’ll bloody murder you, Francis,” Arthur hissed through clenched teeth. 

Francis hummed a little as he filled in the tiny boxes, marking one of the numbers off. 

“Whatever you say, chèri,” he agreed, shooting him a smile. 

A knock on the doorframe distracted the both of them as they glanced towards the door in unison. 

Alfred stood there, grinning as always, his tie and hair a tad messy, and his glasses slightly askew on his face. 

Arthur raised an eyebrow. 

“Can we help you, Alf—” 

“Mon dieu, Alfred, did you just have sex?” Francis cried, gasping a little. 

The American laughed. 

“No, Francis,” he promised. “Ivan and I got interrupted by the boss in the middle of it. It seems he’s been looking for the both you, he needs the both of you in his office.” 

“Looking for us?” Arthur repeated, a look of slight confusion crossing his face. “We haven’t left my office all day, how in the world could he be ‘looking for us’ when we’ve been here the whole time? All he had to do was pop in and—” 

“Artie, I completely and honestly value your opinion and problem, but I have a little something to get back to,” Alfred interrupted. 

Arthur furrowed his brows before realization his him. He made a face of disgust. 

“That’s disgusting, Alfred!” He exclaimed. “Honestly, you’re both at work, how do you both even make time for this? And where?”

Alfred laughed. 

“That’s our little secret, but just a random tip, don’t come into the copying room for...a good hour at least,” Alfred winked. “Ivan gets a little possessive and rough when I keep him waiting.” 

“Oh my God, just go, Alfred,” Arthur groaned. “I’ve heard enough. We’ll go to the bosses office, just go back to doing what you were.” 

Alfred grinned. 

“You’re the best!” 

He rushed out the door, but not before Francis yelled out his helpful, “Make sure to not lie on the copy machine, you’ll have back problems in the morning!” 

Arthur shot Francis a mildly disturbed, mildly confused look, and Francis shrugged as he followed his partner to their bosses office. 

“What?” 

“How the hell would you know that?” He wondered. “You know what, never mind, it’s you...why am I even asking.” 

Francis smirked. 

“Because maybe you want to be the one feeling the copy machine on your back, amour,” he rubbed a hand on Arthur’s shoulders. 

“One day, Francis,” is all Arthur growled, as he pushed the Frenchman’s hand off of him. 

They halted in front of their bosses door and Arthur knocked, calling out their identity when asked to. 

“Come in,” came the muffled reply. 

Arthur and Francis entered, seeing their boss in the middle of lighting a cigar. 

“Please, sit,” their boss commanded, gesturing towards the chairs in front of his oak desk. “This may be a subject you might need to sit down for.” 

The two sat, anticipation growing by the second. Their boss glanced at them, and then sighed and poured them some bourbon whiskey, pushing it towards them. 

“You might need some of that too,” he suggested. 

Francis swirled the honey colored liquid around in the fancy, crystal glass, as he hadn’t always been a beer and whisky kind of gentleman. He’d always leaned more towards the wine alcohol. 

Arthur on the other hand practically took a shot of the whiskey, shutting his eyes tightly for a moment, before refocusing on their boss. 

“What did you need us for, sir?” Arthur wondered. 

“There’s a new case for the both of you,” he began after a moment. He crouched down in his chair to get a file, before tossing it in front of the both of them, and leaning back. “Henry Wordsworth. He’s an English gentleman, who moved to America recently and is throwing a party tonight. We’re afraid he’s been engaged in illegal activities, perhaps the black market and drugs. I need the both of you to go to his party tonight...” 

“Yes, sir, that’ll be no pr—” 

“...as a couple,” their boss finished. 

The both of them stared at their boss, Arthur’s mouth hanging slightly open and Francis unmoving and wide-eyed. Their boss nodded. 

“I understand that sounds strange,” he said, sipping some bourbon. “But Henry won’t let you in unless you’re a couple. Also, he doesn’t swing towards women, so he doesn’t care if you’re homosexual.” 

Arthur’s face was heating up by the minute, so Francis spoke first. 

“Do we have to act married or just boyfriend and boyfriend?” He wondered, sitting back in the chair and crossing his legs. 

“Francis!” Arthur gasped. “You’re on board with this?” 

He shrugged and nodded. 

“Married,” their boss answered. “That’ll win his heart over more,” he gestured towards the folder that still layed untouched on the desk. “He’s a bit of a sap.” 

Arthr finally broke out of his trance and reached for the folder, opening it and scanning over his information. He raised his eyebrow. 

“It seems that he’s had many girlfriends,” he observed, glancing at the relationship tab. 

Francis leaned over from his chair and chuckled. 

“Arthur, cher, those aren’t women,” he said. 

The Englishman furrowed his brows, before squinting a bit and he gasped and closed the folder. He glanced with wild eyes towards his boss. 

“We don’t have to...do that, do we?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Their boss laughed. 

“Oh no, my boy, I’d never ask you to cross-dress unless it be a dire situation,” he replied. “But, I do need to know if the both of you will tackle this case.” 

Arthur and Francis glanced at each other, and a mutual understanding passed between them. Arthur turned back and sighed. 

“Yes, sir, we’ll take on the case,” he agreed. 

“Good!” He exclaimed. “Now, the party starts at eight, and you have to dress very fancy. Mr. Wordsworth has loads of money and will not let you in nor want to speak to you, if you’re not dressed to impress.” Francis and Arthur nodded, making a small mental note. “And, he doesn’t like animals, he loves reading, and never mention his ex-husband, Archie. They had a dire fight and he wishes to forget him. He carries a very strong hatred for him...” 

Arthur glanced at the folder in his lap again, scanning over the last bit of the information. 

“It says here, he mostly throws masquerade parties,” Arthur read, glancing back up. “Is this one like that?” 

“Ah, I almost forgot! Thank you! Yes, this is a masquerade party. I’m sure you know someone who has some masks for the both of you,” he replied. “Now, just to make sure, you’ll both take this case, correct?”

Arthur nodded, closing the folder. 

“Yes sir,” they both responded. 

“Good. Now, get out of my office, I have work to do.” 

* * *

Matthew sat quietly on the couch, curled up in a blanket, sneezing a few times. He had been forced to stay home today by his brother, who had noticed Matthew’s paler-than-usual face and sneezing fits. 

“Are you sure Matthew has them?” 

The Canadian glanced up as he heard voices behind his door, and someone stick a key into the lock. It sounded like Arthur...but only Alfred had a key, since he did live with Matthew.

To answer his question, Francis, Arthur, and Alfred came in, still engulfed into their conversation. They halted, and Alfred went over to greet his sniffling little brother. He swooped down and kissed his head. 

“Hey, bro,” he greeted, ruffling his hair a bit. “How’re you feeling?” 

Matthew smiled. 

“Fine, Al. Can I go back to work yet?” He wondered, placing the book on the couch next to himself as he stood up. “I feel f—” Matthew cut himself off as he began to have a coughing fit. 

“Yeah, hell no, you’re staying home,” Alfred decided, filling up a cup of water and handing it to Matthew. “The hospital can survive without one of their doctors for a few more days.”

“Matthieu, are you alright?” Francis wondered, rubbing the boy’s back as he cleared his throat a bit and drank the water. 

“I’m okay, Francis, it’s just a cold,” he promised. 

“Are you sure, lad?” Arthur questioned, sitting on the bar stool next to him. 

“Yeah...yeah, I’m fine. Um, so what’re you guys here for?” He asked. “I mean, I’m glad to see you both, but I thought you’d be working late, since yesterday with that case and stuff...” 

“Yes, well, the boss gave us a new case and it’s required we act like a couple,” Arthur explained. “Francis and I, that is. And, we need to attend this party—it’s more like an old fashion ball—and we need masquerade masks, and we were wondering if you still had ours from that party three years ago?” 

Matthew thought for a minute, before nodded. 

“Oh yes, I have them in the closet,” he remembered. He pushed back his chair, stumbling a bit as he could barely feel his legs. “I’ll go get them for you guys.” 

All of them watched Matthew turn the corner of his house, gripping the walls for support. Alfred sighed and went to go make dinner for his brother. 

“Is he sure he’s alright?” Francis asked, worry lining his features. “He seems a little wobbly and out of it...maybe we should take him to a hospital.” 

Alfred shook his head. 

“He’ll refuse, I’ve already tried that,” he said, pulling out a pan. “I practically begged him to go, but he won’t do it. I mean, he is a doctor himself, maybe if he says it isn’t bad, we shouldn’t worry.” 

Francis and Arthur nodded just as Matthew re-entered the room, carrying two masks in his hands. 

“Here you go,” he said, handing them both their own. 

“Thank you, Matthieu,” Francis thanked, smiling at him. “We really appreciate it.” 

Arthur nodded, and stood from the stool. 

“Well, we should get going,” he announced, urging Francis to get out of the chair. “We have to be there at eight, and it’s already seven, we have to go get ready. Take care of yourself, Matthew.” 

Matthew smiled. 

“I will. And good luck to the both of you.” 

Francis hugged Matthew. 

“Be careful, Matthieu.” 

After their goodbyes to Matthew, they called one out to Alfred and then left the brother’s home. 

Francis got into the passanger seat of Arthur’s car, and the two sped off into the setting sun, trying to ignore the moments that were just waiting to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo my other story featuring all our favorite problematic favorites didn’t work out to well, as I wasn’t finding the motivation to finish it, so I started this instead! I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter, and will continue to stick with these two on their journey! 
> 
> Have a good day, ciao~


	2. Chapter 2

“Francis what the bloody hell are you doing?” 

The Frenchman grinned as he leaned against the doorframe, cocking out his hip and placing his hand there. He shot Arthur a seductive smile. 

“This’ll be much more fun, non?” He replied, pushing himself off the frame and walking towards Arthur. “I’ll be your dainty damsel in distress and you can be my mighty hero...that’ll win over this sap a bit more.” 

Arthur’s eyes flicked over Francis’s outfit choice. Francis smirked before twirling, the 18th century dress whirling along with him. Arthur glared at him. 

“Boss said we didn’t need to cross-dress, frog,” Arthur grumbled, turning back to the mirror in his room. “You’ve gone a little extreme with this case.” 

Francis chuckled, and sashayed over to his partner. 

“It seems that you’re pleased with my outfit choice,” Francis purred, grinning at the red-faced Englishman in the mirror. 

Arthur pushed Francis away from him. 

“One day, Francis,” he grumbled, before changing the subject. “Won’t your deep voice give it away?” He wondered, scratching the back of his neck. “Besides, you have a—” Arthur paused once he realized Francis had already shaved the small beard he had on his chin. 

“I can make my voice higher if I so please,” Francis turned up his chin as though he was offended. “You underestimate my abilities, mon cher.” 

Arthur rolled his eyes as he straightened his tie. 

“If this is what you really want to do,” he sighed. “But boss said Mr. Wordsworth was fine was homosexuals.” 

Francis grinned again, his tongue poking out between his teeth. 

“As I said before, amour, this will be much more fun,” he repeated, before leaving the room, calling back that he’d meet Arthur at the door. 

Arthur watched as Francis clinked away in his heels, low of course, to not appear any taller than Arthur than he already was, and shot Arthur one last playful look before exiting the room. Arthur looked at himself in the mirror one more time, before going down the stairs and meeting Francis at the bottom. 

“Your ring, mon amour,” Francis said, dramatically, as he pulled a wedding ring out from his pocket and slipped it onto Arthur’s finger. 

Arthur rolled his eyes as he did the same, a slight blush dusting over his cheeks. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” he mumbled under his breath, leading the Frenchman out of the house and into the limo that was awaiting them outside Arthur’s house. 

“Open the door for me,” Francis commanded, waiting beside he door. “A fair maiden as myself cannot do this on her own. My knight and shining armor must help his dainty—” 

“Dainty my arse!” Arthur grumbled as he yanked open the car door for Francis. Francis sent him a thankful smile before climbing into the car, an irritated Arthur following shortly after.

* * *

Henry Wordsworth’s house was...not what Arthur had expected in the slightest. It didn’t look like it belonged in the 21st century. It’s tall columns and saint statues that sat in the extravagant, yet dainty, yard made it look like a house straight out of the 18th century. 

“Seems like your dress matches the mood,” Arthur informed Francis as they pulled into the golden gates. “Yet I still don’t see the need for you to cross-dress when the boss said we could act like homosexuals!” 

Francis rolled his eyes as he got out of the limo once it had come to a stop. 

“I simply don’t know how many times I must explain myself,” he sighed. 

Arthur matched his sigh as he got out of the car and went to stand next to Francis. Francis smiled and intertwined their fingers. 

The Englishman glanced at their hands and then back at Francis with a wild expression, his heart going ecstatic in his chest.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” He whispered as they made their way up the  porch steps. 

Francis turned towards Arthur, raising an eyebrow. 

“Most married people hold hands, non?” He explained, leaning forward a little to ring the doorbell. “If it bothers you, we can stop.” 

Arthur cast his glance to the side, thankful for the masquerade mask that was covering his fiercely blushing face. 

“No,” he grumbled. “We’ll look more like a couple this way,” he agreed.  

Their conversation was cut short as a man in a tux opened the door, a mask similar to Arthur’s covering his own face. 

He smiled at them. 

“Welcome!” He announced. “I’m Mr. Wordsworth, but you can both call me Henry!” He stepped aside. “Please, come in.”

Francis mustered up the most seductive smile he could as he dragged his “husband” inside. 

“Thank you, Henry,” he purred. He lightly touched the mans arm. “My husband and I were just married and I couldn’t find a better way to spend our Saturday than here.” 

Henry smiled as he led them into the living room where other couples sat conversing. 

“Ah! Newly-weds are you?” He asked, handing them both a glass of wine. 

Arthur nodded. 

“Yes, indeed,” he answered. 

Francis sipped his wine, nodding at Arthur over the rim of the glass. Arthur, quickly catching on, dropped Francis’s hand and snaked it around his waist. 

Mr. Wordsworth laughed. 

“I see you two can’t keep your hands off each other!” He noticed. “Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you two away from each other, please, enjoy yourselves here! I’ll be back soon, just a little something I need to take care of in my library.” 

Arthur and Francis forced smiles at him until he disappeared around the corner. 

“Bloody twat,” Arthur spat as he released Francis’s waist. “Something to take care of in the library? Why would he openly admit that, it just sounds sketchy.” 

Francis chuckled. 

“I think you’ve been spending too much time with Alfred, mon cher,” he said. “I have never heard you say the word ‘sketchy’ before.” 

“Oh shut it!” Arthur snapped, crossing his arms, and turning around to place his wine glass on the bar behind him. “So, should we fol—” 

As soon as Arthur turned around, Francis rushed forwards and connected their lips in a passionate, needy way. Arthur’s eyes widened and he sat there, frozen as he let Francis have his way with his mouth. His heart pounded wildly as he began to kiss him back after a moment.

Francis stepped back, his heels making a small clinking sound and grinned at the shocked, blushing British man. 

“Sorry, amour, but one of Henry’s brothers was coming toward us to pick up a drink and you almost spilled our plan and I had no other discreet way to make you shut up,” Francis explained. 

Arthur’s throat went dry as he tried to find words. Francis beat him to it as he smirked. 

“Did you enjoy that, cher?” He wondered, twirling his blonde locks around a single finger. “It didn’t take you that long to kiss me back.” 

The Englishman made a ‘tsk’ sound as he turned around, throwing back his wine and facing Francis again. 

“You bloody frog, I knew the plan the whole time, so I simply went alone with it,” he lied, rolling his eyes. “Now, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted by your tongue, should we follow him?” 

“Yes,” Francis replied, the smug grin never leaving his face. “I think that idea would be lovely.” 

Arthur nodded and hooked his arm around Francis’s to make it look as though he always needed to be touching him somehow, and escorted him to the library, trying to ignore what had happened just mere moments before.

They stopped right outside, hearing voices coming from inside the closed door. Arthur put a finger to his lips as he placed an ear carefully on the door. 

“...impossible, Mr. Wordsworth,” someone was saying. “It’s too risky, sir.”

“Damn it!” Someone hit the table with their fist. “Hand me a cigar, would you, Samuel?” 

Arthur heard the shuffling of feet and a lighter being turned on a few seconds later. Someone, who Arthur assumed was Mr. Wordsworth, let out a noisy breath. 

“What about the two couples that arrived a few minutes ago?” He suggested. “The newly-weds that can’t go one damn second without touching each other...did they seem like people who’d be in on a little something like this?” 

A long pause. 

“Sir, I don’t suppose anyone here would sacrifice themselves for the black market,” the other man responded. “I know I certiantly wouldn’t.” 

“No...you’re right,” Mr. Wordsworth agreed. Another long stretch of silence. “What if, we didn’t give them a choice? It seems the two can’t live without each other...if we hold the other hostage and say the only way to get their lover back is to sacrifice themselves. But, who do we hold hostage?”

Samuel spoke up once more, and Arthur did not like what he heard. 

“I suggest the lady, sir. She seems easier to take down,” he pointed out. “The man seems a tad...angrier, he’d give up too much of a fight to go quietly. The lady is who we should take.” 

“What’s going on in there, Arthur?” Francis wondered, as he felt the British man clench his fist. “What’re they saying to each other?” 

Arthur yanked himself away from the door as he heard footsteps approaching it. He said nothing as he grabbed his partner’s hand and ran them back into the living room. 

“You,” he breathed, slightly out of breath from the run. “They’re going to take you and make me sacrifice myself for the black market as the only way to get you back.”

Francis’s eyes widened. 

“What do we do?” Francis wondered. 

Arthur glanced around the room at the hundred or so other couples and took in a deep breath. 

“Just act natural,” he decided. “Like we don’t know a thing, and when someone lays a hand on you...you have your gun, don’t you?” 

Francis nodded. 

“Good, then whip it out and knock them out with it or something of the sort,” he continued. “If that doesn’t work, I’ll come to your rescue.” 

Francis chuckled. 

“My knight in shining armor,” he teased, grinning at Arthur’s red face. “But give me at least thirty minutes with them, if I’m not back, come get me.”

The Englishman didn’t have time to respond as music began to play and Mr. Wordsworth and who Arthur assumed was Samuel came back. 

“Ladies and gentleman, it’s that time of the evening!” He announced. “Have fun on the dance floor, all of you!” 

The couples all got up excitedly, and Arthur shot Francis a look when he began pulling him towards it. 

“You know I hate dancing,” Arthur complained. 

Francis smiled at him as he took Arthur’s hand and placed the other one on his shoulder. 

“I know you don’t,” Francis replied. “Don’t think I don’t catch you dancing alone in your room sometimes.” 

Arthur gasped, but was cut off by the music as it progressively got louder. He sighed and placed a hand on Francis’s hip. 

“That’s more like it,” Francis commented as he let Arthur lead him across the dance floor to the music. “I heard the Queen of England taught you to dance.” 

Arthur let a smile slip. 

“Yes, she did,” Arthur confirmed, spinning Francis before yanking him back. “It was a long time ago though, that was before I had to move here.” 

Francis frowned as Arthur’s face turned to one of sorrow. 

“Amour—” 

Someone tapped Francis’s shoulder. He turned around. It was Samuel. He smiled at the Frenchman. 

“Ma’am, I feel so sorry for doing this, but could you come with me for a moment?” 

Francis glanced at Arthur, who hesitantly nodded. He brushed his hand across his gun that was resting in the garments under his dress and smiled. 

“Yes sir, lead the way,” he said, allowing himself to be led away. He shot one last look at Arthur before his face was gone from his view. 

Arthur left the dance floor, anxiously pacing back and forth, chewing his nails down to the skin, before checking the clock. Thirty seconds had passed. He glanced at the hallway Samuel had taken Francis down. He still wasn’t back yet. 

He collapsed into a chair, nervously shaking his leg. Thirty minutes. Francis told him to give him thirty minutes...his eyes shot back to the clock again. It’d only been a minute. He put his head in his hands. 

At some point, though he doesn’t remember when, he’d grabbed a wine glass from the table and just shot it down. His eyes wandered to the clock again. It’d been five minutes. 

Another few minutes passed, and people began to approach Arthur and drag him to the dance floor, which annoyed him to no end, but the gentleman in him told him not to decline. Besides, it was a way to get his mind off things. 

After about twenty-five minutes of endless dancing, the panic really began to set in. He pulled himself away from the dance floor for a moment and took in a deep breath. 

Five more minutes and he could go save Francis. 

He didn’t understand why he was so anxious in the first place. He and Francis had been on many dangerous missions before, and they’d always gotten out safe and fine, and Arthur never worried this much...but something was different. The British man just didn’t know what. 

He glanced at the clock again. Twenty-seven minutes had passed. He grit his teeth. It had been long enough. He raced down the hallway and busted into the library just in time to see the butt of Francis’s gun smack Samuel unconscious. 

The Frenchman turned around, a line of blood cascading from a wound on his temple. He rolled his eyes. 

“Did I not say give me thirty minutes?” He wondered, wiping some of the blood from his lip away. He only smeared it. 

“You bloody idiot!” Arthur yelled. “Why did you take so long?” 

Francis grinned at him. 

“Were you worried about me, chèri?” He asked, walking towards him. Arthur rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. 

“Worried you weren’t getting the job done right!” Arthur lied. “Sit down, you twat, you can’t go back out there with all this blood on your face.” 

Francis sat on the couch in the library and Arthur kneeled in front of him, whipping out a handkerchief and gently wiping the blood from his face. His eyes met his partner’s as he cleaned the wound on temple. He blushed and quickly looked away.

He tossed the cloth to the side once he was done and sighed, “Were you hurt anywhere?” 

Francis shrugged. 

“Just a small bruise on my hip,” he told him. “Ah yes, and the rather obvious cut on my temple. Other than that, non.” 

Arthur nodded as he dusted off his hands and got up. He rummaged through the library desk drawers. 

“Doesn’t this man keep a first-aid kit in his library?” He mumbled, more to himself than his partner, but Francis let out a laugh anyway. 

“Not all Englishmen are like you, cher,” he said, which earned him a nasty look from Arthur. He just chuckled and got off the couch. “It’s finished bleeding, and the masquerade mask will cover it for now, let’s just go.” 

Arthur pondered this for a moment before obliging and followed Francis out of the door, wanting nothing more than to just collapse in his bed and forget the strange pounding he got in his heart when Francis opened the limo door for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww our little English baby doesn’t know his own feelings :( Hope you enjoyed this chapter! And thank you to the person in the comments who came up with the briliant idea to make Francis cross-dress as a woman! I had a lot of fun writing in that part!
> 
> Anyway, have a good day, ciao~


	3. Chapter 3

Two weeks had passed since the masquerade ball, and Arthur had become more and more angry with himself. Every glance Francis sent his way, a simple touch, a rewarding smile every time he’d said something...it was making Arthur go crazy. 

“Artie?” 

Arthur glanced up, and nodded in acknowledgement at the blonde standing in his office doorway. Alfred stepped inside, sliding a enclosed package towards him. 

“What’s this?” Arthur wondered, going to open it. His emerald eyes scanned quickly over it and his mouth went into a line. “What the bloody hell is this?” 

“My two week notice,” Alfred replied, twisting his hands a bit, nervously shifting from foot to foot. “I’m quitting my job. I was wondering if you’d read over it and make sure I sound smart.” 

Arthur just stared at him. 

“Can I know why you decided to leave this job?” Arthur questioned, placing the papers to the side, and folding his hands on his desk. 

Alfred hid a tiny smile. 

“Hold on,” he commanded, before turning around and shutting Arthur’s office door. His face was beaming. “Promise not to overreact?” 

“Um...yes.”

Alfred grinned and held out his hand. The Englishman studied his hand for a second before a shiny gold wedding band caught his eye. He glanced up at the American. 

“Ivan proposed?” 

Alfred squealed and jumped up and down like a high school girl who’d just kissed the quarterback. He nodded excitedly, his dark blonde hair flying around violently. 

“Yes! He did it last night! He took me to go see Hamilton, which my God I have  _always_ wanted to see! And then he took me to a really fancy restaurant, and when we were eating our main course, he grabbed my hand and started saying this really sappy stuff and being super romantic and I was a little confused, and then he got on one knee and proposed!” Alfred gushed. 

Arthur chuckled a bit as he took in a big breath before continuing. 

“Of course, I said yes, and I started crying and then we got free dessert, and I thought this night couldn’t get any better! Then he took me back to his house and there were rose petals lining the entryway and they lead all the way back to his room, and there was a huge basket of chocolate and candy and my favorite flowers all waiting for me...I’m assuming you know what happened next. But, it was all so perfect!” 

Arthur smiled. 

“I’m happy for you both,” he congratulated. “So Ivan told you you didn’t have to work anymore? That he’d provide for you guys?” 

Alfred nodded, that grin never leaving his face. 

“Yes, he did. Isn’t he sweet?” 

Before Arthur could answer, his door opened and in walked Francis, sipping a cup of coffee. He grinned at the two, saying good morning, before sitting down in the chair across from Arthur’s desk. 

“Bloody hell, Francis don’t you knoc—” 

“Francis I’m getting married!” Alfred exclaimed. 

The Frenchman gasped before placing his coffee on the desk and enveloping Alfred in a hug. 

“Ivan finally proposed? It took him long enough!” 

Alfred pulled back. 

“You knew he would?” 

Francis smiled. 

“Ivan came to me a week ago all nervous and stumbling over his words, so I took him to cafè and told him to talk to me when he was ready and he asked me how to propose, it was adorable,” Francis explained. “I told him that whatever he felt in his heart was right, and the words would just come to him naturally when the time came. I see he did wonderfully.” 

Alfred smiled, blushing a tad. 

“Yeah, he did,” he agreed. “Oh! I forgot, we’re getting married in two months, here are your guys invitations...” He handed them both a white envelops. “All the information is in there. Oh and Mattie’s my best man, of course.” 

Francis sat down in the chair, acquiring his coffee once more. 

“How’s Matthieu taking it?” Francis wondered, taking a sip of his coffee. 

Alfred sighed.  

“He was really supportive, but I don’t know how he’ll be once I’m actually up and out of the house...I mean, we haven’t been separated for years...we’ve lived together forever.” 

“I’m sure he’ll be alright,” Arthur assured. “He’ll meet somebody and everything will be fine. He’s twenty-one years old, Alfred, he’ll be okay.” 

Alfred nodded. 

“You’re right, you’re right...he’ll be okay. Well, anyway, speaking of the Canadian, I gotta go home and check on him. You know how he was feeling shitty like two weeks ago? Turns out he’s got bronchitis, and since he neglected it for so long it’s not gonna be easy to fix. But, doctor said he’ll be fine to return to work and back to normal in a few days.”

“Tell him I said to get better and to take care of himself!” Francis called out to the American. 

Alfred nodded and left the office, leaving the two of them alone. Arthur cleared his throat, fiddling with his tie, before choosing to focus on the wedding card in front of him. 

“Is everything alright, cher?” Francis questioned, raising an eyebrow and placing his empty coffee cup on the desk in front of him. “You’ve been acting a little strange ever since the last case we had.” 

Arthur snorted. 

“You’re out of your mind, frog,” he grumbled. “I’ve been perfectly normal.” 

“Amour, you thought our tea kettle was broken because it wouldn’t make your tea, when you’d placed the kettle on the counter instead of the stove,” Francis frowned. “And when I asked you why you didn’t just put it on the stove, you told me that you didn’t want to just put it on the stove when it didn’t want to be there and just drank your boiling hot water instead.” 

Francis glanced at Arthur. 

“Are you sure everything is alright?” 

“Yes, I’m fine,” Arthur mumbled. A few silent moments passed before Arthur added on, “you twat.” 

Francis just chuckled and got up. 

“Well, we have work to do,” Francis changed the subject. “Apparently, Henry Wordsworth doesn’t go down easily and his brother found out what happened and he’s trying to track whoever did it.” 

Arthur nodded, thankful to get back to work and have his mind taking off that for a few minutes. 

“Alright, let’s find this wanker.” 

* * *

Arthur raised a fist before biting his lip and dropping it. He paced in front of the door for a few more seconds before quickly making up his mind. 

“Oh for the love of—” 

He knocked on the door swiftly, and waited for someone to come get it. 

“I’ll get it!” He heard Matthew call, before collapsing into a coughing fit. 

“No you won’t bro, sit your ass back down,” Arthur heard Alfred responded. 

A few moments later, the door was opened and Arthur was face to face with Alfred—well, not face-to-face of course, the American had always been taller than Arthur, it was more face to lips. 

“What’s up, Artie?” He greeted. 

“We need to talk,” Arthur replied shortly, before walking into their house. He spotted Matthew on the couch and sat down next to him. “You know Francis the best right?” 

Matthew shrugged as Alfred sat on the arm of the chair the both of them were on. 

“I guess, why is something wrong?” He wondered, leaning his head back to rest on his older brother’s leg. 

Alfred smiled a little and began lightly stroking his hair.  

“No...it’s just,” Arthur stopped and let out a frustrated groan. “When I say what I’m about to say, neither of you are allowed to laugh or joke about it in any way, is that clear?” 

The brother’s shared a look before nodding. 

Arthur sighed. 

“Whenever I see Francis...I get this feeling that I’ve only ever had with Kiku, before he had to move back to Japan for family...” Arthur began. “Which is bloody impossible, because I hate Francis’s guts. I have for the whole ten years I’ve known him.” 

Matthew smiled a little. 

“Won’t admit you’re in love with him?” He guessed. Arthur nodded, defeated. “Well, if it’s what you felt with Kiku, that’s really important, because what you two had was incredible. I think the both of you would’ve gotten married had it not been for the family issues he was going through.” 

Alfred laughed. 

“Yeah, you guys were really deeply in love...I mean, you brought out a side of Kiku no one had ever seen before, and he did the same for you,” Alfred remembered. “You should tell Francis how you feel, Artie.” 

Arthur snorted. 

“We’ve been bickering and at each other’s throats ever since we met each other when we were fifteen, why would he return my feelings in any way?” 

“Because despite all the arguing and stuff he’s your best friend? I mean, honestly, Francis has been there for you through a lot,” Matthew reminded. “And he’s always been the more sappy and romantic one, so if anyone were going to be accepting and return your feelings, it would be him one hundred percent.” 

The Englishman shrugged. 

“That bloody twat is always talking about how he’s from ‘the country of love’ and all that nonsense,” Arthur said. “But, it’s me...he wouldn’t...he could have a man or a woman in his bed in under a second that’s a million times better than me.” 

“Arthur, don’t do that to yourself,” Alfred responded, resting his hand on Matthew’s head. “I thought the same thing about Ivan, I kept telling myself that my crush on him was stupid because the man he had before me was so much better and Ivan was so hot and I was just...well, me. But one day we were both in the copying room and I was stuttering and blushing, because he was teasing the hell out of me, trying to get me to tell him who I liked. He was poking my sides and tickling me, and would grin at my blushing face, but I wouldn’t tell him. Then out of nowhere he just kissed me, and it all escalated from there. And hey, look at us now two years later, engaged.” 

Arthur half-smiled. 

“I guess you’re both right,” he agreed, he glanced at the clock. “I must be going. Thank you for the advice, both of you. I’ll see what happens between us.” 

Matthew waved at Arthur, smiling. 

“Bye Arthur, drive home safe.” 

“Goodbye Matthew, get well soon.” 

Alfred slipped off the arm of the couch, and walked Arthur to the door. 

“You sure you’ll be fine?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowed with worry. 

Arthur waved it off. 

“I’ll be alright, lad. I’m twenty-five years old, I can take care of myself,” he promised. 

Alfred laughed a little. 

“Alright, well, take care, old man.” 

Arthur rolled his eyes. 

“You’re only three years younger than me,” Arthur pointed out. 

Alfred grinned. 

“Still counts.” 

“Whatever you say. Goodnight.” 

Arthur walked off their porch to his car, their advice echoing in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for not posting for awhile guys! Schools just been crazy, but we have a few days off now and I’ll have more time to expand on this story. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Poor Arthur doesn’t know how to deal with his feelings :( 
> 
> Anyway, have a good day, ciao~


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur took a deep breath as he lifted a fist to gently knock on his partner’s door. He heard a quick, “Just a minute!” and a bed creaking. Arthur’s heart stopped as Francis opened the door, hair tosseled, shirt missing and a smile Arthur had seen one too many times on his face. 

“Ah, Arthur, cher,” he greeted, slightly out of breath. “What can I help you with? And a tad quickly if you don’t mind.” 

The Englishman was at a loss for words. Francis raised an eyebrow. 

“Amour, is everything alright?” He asked, concern filling his eyes, and that knowing smile vanishing from his lips. He placed a hand on the slightly shorter man’s shoulder. “Arthur?” 

“I’m...” He pushed his partner’s caring hand off of him. “I’m f—” 

“Francis~” a flirty voice called. “Don’t keep me waiting for too long.” 

Arthur cringed and clenched his fist. 

“—ine. Just, get back to what you were doing...I’m sorry for bothering you. I’ll just speak with you tomorrow.” 

Francis nodded, uncertainty coating his face as he watched Arthur run slightly away from his house. He closed the door with hesitation and went back to his bedroom. 

Arthur slammed his car door once he got in and placed his forehead against the steering wheel. For the first time in years, Arthur actually cried. A few tears maybe, but still. He hadn’t cried since Kiku had to leave. 

He wiped the tears away and drove to the nearest bar. He opened the doors with much force and made his way over to the counter. He sat on the stool and ordered the strongest drink they had. 

After his seventh, Arthur began to get dizzy and the room began to spin. But nonetheless, at least he wasn’t thinking of Francis anymore. He was drunk and numb. Just the way he needed to be. He shrugged. Maybe he’d do something reckless and stupid. 

* * *

“Yes, well for a majority of my life—” 

Francis sighed as his phone began to ring. He held up a finger to the person in his bed and smiled apologetically. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and glanced at the caller ID. Arthur? He picked it up hurriedly. 

“Arthur? What’s wrong?...You’re drunk?...Mon dieu, Arthur...Non! Stay right there...I’m coming to get you...It doesn’t matter...I—...Yes I’ll be there in five minutes, please don’t go anywhere.” 

Francis hung up the phone and rushed to his closet, throwing on the first thing he found and turning to the man on his bed. 

“I’m sorry, I have to go.” 

He rushed down the stairs and snatched his keys off the counter, hurriedly getting in his car, and ignoring the fact he’d just left a total stranger in his house. He made it to the bar Arthur was at in five minutes flat, just as he’d promised. 

“Fraaannnncis!” Arthur slurred, smiling drunkly once he saw his partner. “You said five minutes, and you were here in that exact amount of time!” 

Francis grinned. 

“Yes, I promised, didn’t I?” Francis responded, walking towards the drunk Britishman. “Are you ready to go home?” 

Arthur’s eyebrows furrowed. 

“Home? Do we live together?” He asked, glancing at Francis again. 

Francis chuckled. 

“No, cher. I meant your home.” 

“Well, my home is in England, but I had to move here. But, yes...I am ready to go home. I don’t feel well.” 

Arthur tried to stand up from his chair, but immediately stumbled. Francis caught him quickly and sighed. He scooped Arthur up bridal style, and they left the bar. He placed the drunk Brit in the passenger seat and buckled his seatbelt for him. 

Arthur reached up and touched Francis’s face. Francis felt his heart stop for a moment as Arthur stared into his eyes. 

“You look like a frog,” Arthur whispered before laughing hysterically. 

Francis just shook his head and went around the car to slide into the driver seat. He started his car and backed out of the bar, the feel of Arthur’s hand on his face still lingering. 

They drove in silence for a few moments, before Arthur broke it. 

“Francis,” he began, not turning away from the window. “Remember, when we were in high school and I was an exchange student, and I had to come to France? You told me you’d never leave your home...so why did you leave to come  _here_ of all places?” 

The Frenchman smiled. 

“I left because of you, cher. You told me you were leaving for America because it was necessary for you, and I couldn’t live with you being a whole other country away, so I followed you to America,” he explained, making a left turn into his partner’s neighborhood. 

Arthur clutched his heart. 

“That’s sweet,” he mumbled, his eyes beginning to droop. “You know...I love you, Francis. Yeah...I really love you.” 

Francis slammed on the brakes in front of Arthur’s house and turned towards the Brit. 

“What do you—” He stopped in his tracks as he realized Arthur was fast asleep. He hung his head and just smiled. “I love you too, Arthur.” 

He got out of the car and carried Arthur bridal style up the stairs and placed him in bed, brushing his hair back a bit. He got up to leave but Arthur sleepily reached for him. 

“Stay?” he mumbled. 

Francis turned around and sat on the bed again, resting his back against the headboard, and stroking his fingers through Arthur’s hair again. 

“Always,” he whispered as Arthur succumbed to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand finished with this chapter! Sorry I haven’t updated in awhile, I’ve been very busy! Also, I apologize for this chapter being so short! But I hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> Have a good day, ciao~


	5. Chapter 5

The strong smell of ginger tea made Arthur open his heavy eyelids, which he immediately regretted once the sun hit his eyes. He groaned and threw the covers back over his head. He heard someone chuckle and close the curtains. 

He peeked his head out and caught sight of a grinning Francis, mixing a cup of ginger tea. Arthur gasped and shot straight out of bed, despite his head’s nauseated protest. 

“Francis? What the bloody hell are you doing here?” Arthur hissed, cradling his head as the room began to spin.

The Frenchman smiled as he walked towards the bed Arthur was sitting on and handed him the steaming hot tea cup. 

“I made you ginger tea,” Francis told him. “Just the way you like it, of course. One tablespoon of honey and no lime. I find it’s a good way to cure the nausea of hangovers.” 

Arthur accepted it greatfully and began to sip it slowly. 

“Um...Francis, last night...did I say anything to you? Anything out of the ordinary?” Arthur questioned, heart pounding wildly in his chest at just the mere thought of him letting it slip how he felt. 

Francis bit his lip. 

_I love you, Francis...yeah, I really love you._

“Non,” he lied. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Just called me a frog and fell asleep, quite charming actually.” Francis shot the blushing Brit a grin. “Ah, but Matthieu did call this morning. They’re hosting a pool party today at noon to celebrate the engagement, wanted to know if we could attend.” 

Arthur made a face of disgust. 

“Pool party?” He repeated. “I hate pools in general. But yes, if we mu—oh my God, Francis, we’re late for work!” 

Francis put a hand on his shoulder as Arthur went to jump out of bed. 

“It’s Saturday, cher, you’re off today, as am I,” Francis assured. “So, I will let Matthieu know we’ll be attending. Ah, but, chèri, do you even know how to swim?” 

Arthur gasped as he placed his empty tea cup on the nightstand. 

“Of course I know how to swim you bloody wanker, why wouldn’t I?” Arthur demanded, though he knew exactly what Francis was about to bring up. 

Francis grinned. 

“Ah, have you forgotten when we were invited to Jacque’s pool party when we were sixteen and you couldn’t swim?” Francis recalled. “I asked you why you weren’t getting in and you shyly pulled me into the pool house and told me. Ah, I remember sucking up my own pride and sitting on the lawn chairs with you the whole time.” 

Arthur’s face went a deep shade of red. 

“Shut it, frog,” he grumbled, chucking a pillow at him. “And yes, I leaned how to swim. I was forced to by Ki—” Arthur stopped dead in his tracks as he almost mentioned Kiku again. 

Francis cleared his throat. 

“Well then, you must have a swimming suit somewhere then,” he declared, and waltzed over to the Brit’s closet, throwing open the double doors and going inside, searching hanger to hanger. “You have no bathing suit?” 

Arthur shrugged once Francis came out, shocked with his mouth hanging open. 

“I never saw the need for one,” he admitted. 

Francis opened the curtains quickly, practically blinding the sobering up man on the bed. 

“You have a pool, Arthur!” He pointed out, gesturing towards his backyard. “Is it unused? Mon dieu...get dressed, cher, I’m bringing you swimming suit shopping. I refused to beli...this is just odd. I’ll give you five minutes, I’ll be waiting downstairs.”  

“I’m not going bloody swimming suit shopping!” Arthur protested. 

Francis shot him a look and held up five fingers before slamming the door. The Britishman sighed and got out of bed, knowing better than to ignore Francis. 

* * *

“This is bloody stupid.” 

Francis rolled his eyes as he got out of the driver seat of the car, leading Arthur into a store he guaranteed was the best place to find swimming suits. 

“Everyone owns a swimming suit, even if they never go swimming,” Francis said, sifting through hangers to find stuff for Arthur. “You’re just a strange man.” 

Arthur rolled his eyes as he looked through the racks as well. 

“Yes, well, at least I don’t own lingerie like someone people,” Arthur mumbled. 

Francis chuckled. 

“Oh you love it,” he smirked at Arthur before dumping a pile of swimming trunks in his arms. “Come on, you’re trying these on.” 

Arthur rolled his eyes as he was lead to the changing rooms. He locked himself in as Francis waited outside the door. 

“What do you think about any of them?” Francis wondered, after five minutes of waiting. 

“I hate them,” Arthur called back. “I told you, I don’t like bathing suits!” 

Francis rolled his eyes. 

“You just don’t like your body, cher,” Francis called back. “Here, unlock the door, I’ll chose it for you.” 

“No!” 

“Arthur, come on, we’ve seen each other nude plenty of times, we’ve known each other for ten years,” Francis pointed out. “If you don’t let me in, I’ll crawl through the space under the door.” 

After a hesitant moment, the door was unlocked, and Francis stepped inside. He turned to the pile of at least thirty bathing suits in the corner and looked through them. He tossed a green one at Arthur. 

“Try that one again, it brings out your eyes,” Francis suggested. 

Arthur sighed and quickly stripped off his shirt, blushing deeply at the teasing whistle Francis shot at him, and then chucked off his pants and slipped the green bathing suit on. 

“That one!” Francis exclaimed. “You’ll definitely catch attention at the pool party. People won’t be able to take their eyes off you. I know I won’t be able to.” 

He shot Arthur a wink. 

“Shut it,” Arthur hissed. “They’re just swimming trunks, nothing special about them. Everyone will be wearing them, unless Alfred invited women.” 

Francis shrugged. 

“Ivan might’ve invited his sisters,” he pointed out. “They seem rather close.” 

Arthur nodded in agreement before turning back to the mirror. Francis smiled a tad. 

“Get dressed, I’ll be waiting for you at the counter, we must hurry, the party’s in an hour,” Francis said, before opening the door and leaving the dressing room, his heart going ecstatic in his chest as the thoughts of Arthur in swimming trunks stuck in his mind. “What’s wrong with me?” Francis muttered, shaking his head. 

* * *

“Artie, Francis, glad you could make it!” Alfred greeted, opening the pool gate to let them in. “Nice shorts, Artie.” 

“Shut it, you twat,” Arthur snapped, glancing at Alfred’s own trunks (red, white, and blue of course). “Y—” 

Francis put his hands on Arthur’s shoulders and led him away calling back, “Thank you for inviting us! And congratulations on the engagement!” 

Arthur shrugged off Francis’s hands and sat at the pool bar. Matthew smiled at them from the behind the counter and leaned over it. 

“Can I get you both anything?” He asked, looking at the drinks in the cooler. “Al and I have just about everything.” 

“Something that will get me through this pool party without committing homocide,” Arthur groaned. Matthew laughed a little and pushed him a glass, pouring something in it. “Thank you, lad.” 

Matthew smiled before putting the bottle on the counter and going over to the pool rocks, where he was being called over by Gilbert. Francis glanced at those two for a second before sitting down next to Arthur, neither of them speaking. 

Francis cleared his throat, before shifting uncomftorably. Arthur turned around and looked ar him. 

“Is something wrong, frog?” Arthur wondered, shooting down the last bit of alcohol Matthew had given him. 

Francis shook his head. 

“Ah, non...” he responded. “It’s just I’ve been realizing lately a lot lately and I think I l—” 

“Oh my god, Kiku?” Arthur interrupted, slightly stumbling out of his chair as he pushed it back. 

Francis raised an eyebrow and glanced up, wondering what Arthur was talking about, until he noticed Kiku was sitting in a lawn chair next to Yao. 

As Arthur rushed over to him, Francis sighed and just turned around, not wanting to see the whole love reconnection that was about to happen between Kiku and the man Francis was falling in love with. 

“Francis?” 

Francis didn’t even bother to look up as he heard Antonio’s voice right next to him. He assumed Gilbert was there as well, if he wasn’t flirting with Matthew. 

The two bar chairs next to him pulled out and there his friends sat, prodding him for answers on why he looked so down. 

“Come on, Francis, what’s wrong?” Gilbert wondered, taking a sip of his drink. “We aren’t leaving until you tell.” 

Francis signed. 

“I think I’m in love with Arthur,” he admitted. “It’s just...every time I look at him, I get this feeling in my chest, and it’s one I’ve never had before. I don’t get this feeling with my one night stands, or with anyone else, it’s just him. His bitter attitude, emerald eyes...it all just makes me melt inside, but now he’s reconnected with Kiku and I think I realized I was in love with him too late.” 

Antonio and Gilbert shared a saddened look between them before turning back to their distressed friend. 

“Amigo, I don’t think you’ve lost your chance to be with him just because Kiku is here,” Antonio started. “Kiku is only going to be here for today and then he’ll be at the wedding and then he’ll go back home with Yao. He’s more focused on family at the moment, no one is going to change that for him. Besides, how do you know Arthur still even loves him?” 

Gilbert nodded. 

“I agree, Francis,” Gilbert input. “Arthur seems to lean more towards you these days, and I wouldn’t miss my chance to be with him. Don’t go your whole life not telling Arthur how you feel about him, because you’ll always be stuck thinking about what could’ve been if you’d spoken up. Go, confess, tell him how you feel.” 

“You both think I should?” Francis questioned, glancing at the both of them. 

Antonio and Gilbert nodded. 

“I’ll confess,” Francis promised. He looked over to where Kiku and Arthur seemed to be in deep conversation and sighed. “When they’re done talking.” 

“Alright, then that’s settled, on to other important matters, do you think Alfred’s okay with the fact that Ivan’s ex boyfriend is his best man?” Gilbert asked, looking over at Yao. “That’s gotta cause some tension.” 

Antonio shrugged. 

“I would find it slightly odd, but Yao and Ivan have always been close, even after they split up,” Antonio said. 

“Maybe Alfred trusts Ivan enough to know he won’t run away with Yao on their wedding night,” Francis replied, taking another sip of his drink. “The boy seems to have a lot of trust in people.” 

Gilbert shook his head. 

“Yeah, Matthew worries about him and how he trusts people so easily,” Gilbert told. “All you have to do is tell him there is a Big Mac in your trunk and he’ll follow you to the ends of the earth and do all that you need.” 

Francis and Antonio laughed. 

“Yes well—” 

“Francis?” 

All three of them turned around and were met with a nervous looking Arthur. He shot looks at the other two, before just focusing on Francis again. 

“Can I talk to you for a second?” 

Francis looked at his two best friends before nodding and hopping off the stool, following Arthur to the pool house. Arthur shut the door and paced back and forth. 

“Francis, look, I...” He sighed and tried to get his mind straight. “I think I—Okay, listen. I’m not one for emotions much, and you know that, so whatever I say or whatever I do stays in this room. Francis, I’m in love with you. I have been ever since we had to take that case together for Henry Wordsworth. Every time I look at you it’s like a thousand fireworks light up in my chest and my heart can’t stop beating quicker and quicker. 

“There’s not one damn flaw I could find about you, everything you do and what you look like, it’s all perfect! You know how I like my tea, you have a spare key to my house, you know that I’ll only eat eggs if they’re scrambled, you know little details about me that just make me relaize no one knows me better than you do. Ten years is a long bloody time and I’ve been too blind to notice my soulmate is right in front of me! And if you don’t feel the same way, I’m sorry, and I just went on for noth—” 

Francis cut him off short as he slammed Arthur against the wall, pressing their lips together. Arthur tensed for a moment before slowly relaxing and returning the gesture. Francis hoisted Arthur’s legs up so that he could wrap his legs around his waist and deepened the kiss. 

His hands met Arthur’s blonde hair and he tangled his fingers in it, finding any way to just pull the man he’s longed for  _closer._

When they pulled back for air, Arthur stared at Francis, breathless. Francis just smiled at him. 

“French kissing...its true what they say,” Arthur panted, still being pinned against the wall. “Never thought I’d experience it with a real French person.” 

Francis chuckled a bit, before stepping back and letting Arthur stand up once more. 

“If it wasn’t already obvious by now, mon amour, I love you too,” Francis said. 

Arthur smiled at him, before pecking his lips. The moment was quickly ruined when Alfred barged in screaming about his pool noodle. He quickly caught sight of the two of them and he rolled his eyes. 

“Finally,” is all he mumbled, before exiting the pool house with his pool noodle. 

Francis and Arthur shared a glance before laughing. 

Yes, finally indeed.


	6. Chapter 6

“I thought I’d lost you.” 

Arthur looked up at Francis, who was absently brushing his fingers through the Britishman’s hair. Francis was resting his back against the headboard, staring at the moonlight flooding Arthur’s room. 

“Why would you think that?” 

Francis scoffed. 

“Kiku was back, and you rushed over there with some determination,” Francis explained. “I thought that determination was to get him back, since he was finally your’s again.” 

Arthur sat up, the coldness of the room hitting his bare chest as he placed a hand on Francis’s cheek, forcing Francis to look at him. 

“I went over to Kiku to ask him for what to do,” Arthur started. “I told him how you’ve been consuming my thoughts and controlling my actions lately. I told him how there wasn’t one day that went by that I didn’t dream about you, or crave your presence in the empty spot in my bed. I told him that you’re the only person who knows everything about me. I told him how much I love you.” 

Francis took Arthur’s hand in his own as his lips began to twitch into a smile. 

“One day, I’ll marry you and claim you as my own,” Francis whispered, kissing his hand. “I won’t ever let another man touch you.” 

Arthur grinned before leaning forward and slamming their lips together. Francis lowered Arthur back onto the matress, trailing tiny kisses down Arthur’s neck. 

Arthur laughed, scrunching up his neck and trying to push Francis’s head away. 

“Hey, come on, I’m tired,” Arthur told him. Francis just hummed and continued his journey down his boyfriend’s neck. 

“Did I wear you out that bad?” Francis questioned. “Didn’t realize I was being so rough.” 

Arthur blushed bright red and mumbled ‘shut up’ before pushing at his head again. Francis laughed and sat up, leaving the Britishman’s neck alone. 

“I’ll let you rest, mon amour,” he promised. He leaned down and kissed his head. “Goodnight.” 

Arthur snuggled back against his chest and mumbled a quick reply before he drifted off to sleep. 

Francis smiled. 

“I love you.” 

The next morning, Arthur woke up to find Francis’s bedside empty, and the strong smell of pancakes filling the air. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and dragged himself downstairs. 

Francis was in the kitchen, the home phone pressed between one ear and a spatula in his hand. Arthur tried to hide his grin once he realized Francis was wearing an apron and his hair was tied back in a ponytail. 

“Matthieu, are you sure you’re alright?” Francis was saying, concern lacing in his voice. Arthur watched as his eyebrows furrrowd together. “Well, he always has been that way...Of course...” 

Arthur approached him and wrapped his arms around his waist, resting his head on his back. Francis smiled and twisted around, kissing him quickly on the lips. 

“Mmmm? No Matthieu, I told you, Alfred would never do that,” Francis continued, turning off the stove. “...Because it’s him...Well would you like to join as at Arthur’s house? I made breakfast...Okay...I made pancakes...Alright...Au revoir.” 

Francis placed the phone back on the hook and began piling pancakes onto a plate. 

“I made you tea, mon amour,” Francis told him, gesturing to the steaming hot tea cup on the counter. “The newspaper is on the table for you, and of course—” Francis smiled as he handed him a plate of pancakes. “Pancakes.” 

Arthur smiled at him as he greatfully took the plate. 

“Where have you been all my life?” He wondered as he went and sat at the table. 

Francis grinned as he kissed his cheek. 

“Right in front of you, lapin,” he answered, going back into the kitchen.

“So what was wrong with Matthew this morning?” Arthur called, sipping his tea as he glanced over the paper.

“Ah, it’s Alfred,” Francis responded as he came and sat at the table with him. “It seems the two got into an argument last night. In the end Alfred stormed out of the house and Matthieu hasn’t seen him since, he’s worried.” 

“Has he tried calling Ivan? Surely Alfred would’ve gone to his fiancé if he was fired up,” Arthur pointed out. 

Francis nodded. 

“He hung up with me to go call Ivan,” he explained. “I don’t think Matthew is taking the whole Alfred-moving-out deal very well. Alfred gets married in two months, and then he’s gone. I think that Matthew is just scared.” 

Arthur sighed. 

“Poor lad...” 

“He’ll be okay, Alfred can never stay mad at his brother for long, besides,” he smiled, “you can’t let it bother you for long, it will get in the way of the lovely day I have planned.” 

Arthur’s eyes sparkled with interest. 

“Mmmm? What will we do during this special day?” He wondered, leaning forward and resting his head on his hand, closer to Francis. 

Francis chuckled. 

“It’s a surprise,” he answered. Francis checked his watch as Arthur finished up his breakfast. “Now go get dressed and then we’ll stop off at my place so I can get ready.” 

Arthur, ridden with excitement, rushed up the stairs to get dressed. Francis laughed as the Britishman tumbled up the stairs, and went to go put his plate in the sink. 

* * *

“Is this necessary, Francis?” 

Arthur was currently unable to see, as Francis had put his hands over his eyes and was leading him to an unknown place. He heard Francis chuckle. 

“Yes, it is mom amour, just be patient,” he instructed. “We’re almost there, just a few more steps...and we’re there!” 

Francis removed his hands from in front of Arthur’s eyes and waited anxiously for his response. 

Arthur’s eyes widened as he took in the scene before him. It was a picnic table with a ravishing lunch and two tickets to England laid out on it. Arthur felt his heart beating faster in his chest. 

“I’ve already called our boss and told him we’d be gone for three weeks,” Francis assured. “He seemed a little hesitant, but I convinced him to let us go. We’ll be back just in time for Alfred and Ivan’s wedding...what do you say?” 

The Englishman felt tears well up in his eyes as he jumped on Francis, nearly knocking him over as he repeated “thank you” nearly a thousand times. Francis chuckled and held him close. 

“Anything for you, mon lapin.” 

Arthur released him and turned towards the picnic table. Francis held out his hand with a flattering smile.

“Shall we?” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter done! I am so, so sorry this one took so long to come out, but i was going through some stuff and couldn’t find the time or the motivation to finish this chapter. I’m sorry this chapter is not my best work, but I hope you enjoyed!! 
> 
> Have a good day, ciao~


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